


The Monkey King Tarot

by TiedyedTrickster



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Art, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, M/M, New Age, Tarot, Tarot that's been properly researched, dangit Trunks, gratuitous violence towards paintings, in the background - Freeform, ki-sensing, monkey king - Freeform, not as goofy as the tags are making it out to be, not really pairing-centric but they're there, or at least one painting, or the foreground, poor painting, very minor use of Japanese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiedyedTrickster/pseuds/TiedyedTrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 11 years since Buu, and the Z gang is due for a bit of excitement. But the combination of a new friend, a surprising set of artwork, and an old enemy may lead to an outcome none of them would have expected.<br/>Minor Trunks/Goten smooches, all other pairings taken from canon. GT? What's that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daikon

“All right, class!” Miss Canvaas clapped her hands together, “You’re three months into your long-term projects, so now’s an excellent time for a bit of critique! You’ll be partnering off for the next two weeks. During this time, you will look over each other’s’ projects, examining them for strengths and weaknesses. Remember, this is an exercise in both giving and _receiving_ critique! If you see a way you think your partner’s project could be stronger, say it! If your partner’s piece could be stronger in some way, listen to them and consider what they’ve said, rather than dismissing it out of hand! I’ll be reading off your partners now.”

Goten groaned, but sat back from his painting of Mt. Paotzu. The purpose of this class was to do a series of projects throughout the year that fell under an over-arching theme. Goten had decided to challenge himself in theme and medium – a series of watercolours exemplifying ‘home away from the house.’ While part of him was enjoying it, another was wondering why he had thought tackling watercolours again had been a good idea-

“Son Goten and Daikon.”

Goten’s head snapped up as his name was called, then he groaned internally. He knew about half the people in his art class, but not this Daikon guy. Great, paired up with a total stranger. Well, no need to look like a total moron- “Hey, Jetta?” he poked the girl who sat next to him, “Do you know who Daikon is?”

Jetta rolled her eyes and tossed a teal braid over one shoulder. “Still don’t know who everyone is, bedhead?”

Goten scowled, “Knock off the stupid nickname, it’s been years since my hair was that bad and you know it! Do you know who this guy is or don’t you?”

“You’re boring.” She rolled her eyes but gestured to a corner of the room by the windows. “He’s over there, the tall guy. Guess it’s not surprising you don’t know him, he doesn’t interact with other people much.”

The person indicated did indeed look like he would be quite tall if he stood up, but it was the gawky height of someone whose body was still pushing for more height and had yet to fill out what it had already achieved. His hair was black and pulled back in a severe braid, though its true length was concealed behind his torso. The effect was softened slightly by a light fringe of bangs, held out of the youth’s eyes by a blue bandana tied around his forehead. A large set of glasses framed the darkest brown eyes Goten had ever seen, though these were half-hidden beneath Daikon’s eyebrows as he frowned in concentration.

He had his easel set up, and was entirely focussed on the small canvas it contained, moving to gently dab some yellow paint on it. Apparently he was so caught up in his project he hadn’t heard the announcement. That or he had heard and chose to ignore it. Neither option raised Goten’s hopes in regards to this temporary partnership.

Sighing, the demi-saiyan got up and walked over to inform his partner that they _were_ , in fact, partners, not really paying attention to his surroundings. The latter turned out to have been a huge mistake, as he didn’t notice the carelessly dropped bookbag until his foot was tangled in a strap and it was sending him careening straight into Daikon and his easel.

The taller teen was certainly aware of him now, Goten thought from his place on the floor. Hell, the entire _class_ was staring at them as the taller teen, in a gentle, almost detached manner, peeled the canvas he was been working on off the front of his own shirt, revealing smears of orange, yellow, black, and peach on what had previously been a pristine blue expanse. Eyeing the canvas critically, he set it gently down and picked up a tube of paint.

“I’ve been working on that one for a week now,” he said conversationally, twisting the cap off the paint tube and carefully beginning to squeeze it into his right hand, “I take my canvases home with me at night to work on, because my project’s pretty big, and I won’t finish it if I only work on it at school. So I was pretty far along.” Depositing the now empty tube of grey paint on the counter next to him, he bent down and lifted up Goten by the front of his shirt to set him on his feet. “That was a _lot_ of work you just ruined. So be glad I’m doing this to _you_ and not your canvases.”

So saying, he mushed his handful of paint into Goten’s bangs and dragged it down his face, onto his neck, and finally onto the demi-saiyan’s bright yellow t-shirt, which he proceeded to use to clean the remainder of the paint off of his hand with.

“Leave that in for the rest of the day and you’re forgiven.”

With that, he picked up his bookbag, gathered a few tubes of paint, and strode out of the room.

‘ _Wow, his hair’s past his hips,_ ’ Goten noticed in a vague, shell-shocked way as the paint began to dry on his face, before turning to the front of the class. “Miss Canvaas? Can I trade partners with someone?”

\---

 

“-and she wouldn’t let me.” He finished grumpily as Trunks snorted into his milk.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always going on about the ‘sanctity of another artist’s work’ and not messing with it,” Trunks chuckled, “Sounds to me like you got off lightly, compared to what he could have done- you said he looked toned?”

“Psh, like anyone here could touch us,” Goten sulked, “Besides, he’s barely got a power level. He’d break his hand on my stomach.”

“Careful, chibi – if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was me talking just now.”

Goten glowered at his friend. “Mom was right – you’re a terrible influence on me.”

Trunks snorted again. “You’re just better at acting innocent. Still can’t believe you haven’t washed your face off, doesn’t that stuff itch?”

“Like crazy, thanks for reminding me,” the younger hybrid growled. “And I don’t want him going after _my_ canvases – this is a year-long project and it’s the only one we have. If I fail it, I fail the course.”

Trunks whistled. “So why are you taking it again?”

“Because Miss Canvaas has a lot of influence in artistic circles, and if you do well in this course she _will_ write you a letter of recommendation for art school. And I’m going to get one of those letters!” Goten replied firmly. “And if that means walking around with my face covered in paint for the day, I can take it.”

“Heh, spunky little twerp, aren’t you?”

Goten spun around only to get hit in the face with a damp cloth. Sputtering, he pulled it away to see Daikon smirking at him, arms folded over his paint-covered shirt, glasses perched on top of his head. The taller boy laughed.

“I’m impressed, you were actually gonna go through with it?”

“Well duh,” Goten’s tone was cool, “I didn’t want you going after my paintings.”

Daikon raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? What kind of low-life goes after another artist’s work like that? I was just gonna give you a crappy critique. Kami, just wash your face off and I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” And, hands in his pockets, the tall young man sauntered away across the lunch room, braid swaying behind him.

“Daaaaaayum, you weren’t kidding when you said he was tall!” Trunks breathed, staring after him.

“Careful, ojisan, you’re gonna get drool on the table,” Goten grumbled, wiping at his face with the cloth Daikon had given him.

“Ah, don’t worry, Goten, you know I wouldn’t stray from you,” Trunks smirked at him, “Seriously, though, that guy’s like the same height as your dad! And that hair, and did you _see_ his ass? I do not know how I missed a guy like that was attending our school!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, my boyfriend: the pervert.”

“Not like that!” Trunks scowled and shoved Goten across the table, “I mean, he’s distinctive – he should stand out like a sore thumb. So why haven’t we noticed him before? And you were right – he’s definitely doing something to keep in shape, but his ki’s barely there. That shouldn’t be possible, as far as I know!”

            “So… you think maybe he’s some sort of new enemy or a pre-cursor to one or something?” Goten ignored the shove and scrubbed at a particularly stubborn bit of paint.

            “Wouldn’t be surprised – it’s been eleven years since the last major incident, I’d say we’re due.”

Having gotten enough paint off to be able to think of other things, Goten turned to his lunch, though he glanced at Trunks. “What does it say about our lives that our first response to some weird new guy is ‘potential enemy?’”

Trunks leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Only good things, chibi, only good things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins our story. As you may be able to guess, we’ve met my OC. Raditz will show up later, as will the tarot.  
> Also, for those thinking Daikon over-reacting to his painting being ruined? I read this scene to an artist friend of mine, who does paintings and such and also tends to read much darker fics than I read or write. She found the painting’s destruction painful to hear about, and claims Goten got off lightly.


	2. Tarot Cards

“So,” Trunks watched expectantly from his desk as Goten settled down on Trunks’ bed, “What have you learned so far?”

It had been a week since the incident with the painting, and the two hybrids had decided, in an unusual turn of events, to do a little reconnaissance before they made their move. Partially because Trunks said rushing in blindly was for kids. Mostly because, while he had mellowed a huge amount over the past decade, Trunks’ dad was still a terrifying force of nature, and telling him ‘false alarm’ in regards to a fight was incredibly low on their ‘to do’ lists.

“Well,” Goten flopped on the bed unceremoniously, “He’s got some really good ideas about negative space and rubber cement.”

Trunks stared blankly into space for a moment. “Okay, this doesn’t happen often, but you lost me on that one. Rubber cement?”

“You put it on the paper before you wet it down to paint, and once the paint is dry you peel it off. You get really clean, white lines and shapes that way, and can add some cool effects. It’s been awhile since I worked in water colour, and I’d forgotten-”

“Not about the _art_ , chibi,” Trunks threw a pencil at him, “About the _guy_!”

The younger teen caught the pencil and began twirling it between his fingers. “It’s art class, Trunks, what did you think we’d talk about? Besides, we’re looking at my work this week – I’ll be able to ask more questions next week, when we look at his stuff.”

Trunks sighed. “So you haven’t found out _anything_ useful?”

Goten shrugged. “He used to do competitive martial arts.”

“Oh? That could be-”

“Nope,” the younger boy shook his head, “He quit a few years ago. Something about that not being the path he was supposed to follow. Honestly, other than that and the fact that he needs those glasses for reading and stuff, I haven’t found out much. If it weren’t for the super-low ki, I’d say he was just a regular guy who wants to be left alone.”

“Ah, but he _does_ have that super-low ki,” Trunks smirked, “And until we find out why, we keep going.”

“You mean _I_ keep going,” Goten grumbled.

Trunks leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Same thing. So, have you put any consideration into my order for you doing a painting of the two of us together?”

“Dammit, Trunks!”

\---

 

“Before we start, do you know anything about tarot?”

“…no,” Goten looked at Daikon warily, “But I get the feeling I’m about to.”

The taller teen grinned and pulled his glasses on. He’d been friendly enough while going over Goten’s project and plans, and had made a few good points, but there had been a reserved quality to him throughout. Now, though, he was practically buzzing with excitement and had pulled out a thick sketchbook.

“It’s my theme,” Daikon set the sketchbook reverently on the table, “Tarot’s an old means of predicting the future through a special set of cards, divided into twenty-two major arcana and fifty-six minor arcana. I’m doing twelve of the classical major arcana for my project, but I intend to continue on my own and make an entire deck!”

“That… sounds like a lot of work.” Goten watched as Daikon opened the book, “And if tarot’s old, why bother making a new deck? Won’t you lose points for just re-doing old pictures?”

“Nah, there’s lots of decks out there, sorta like you see lots of variations on things like the zodiac or fairy tales. My deck’s going to be the Monkey King Tarot. If I do a good enough job, I might even be able to publish it. If not, well, it can always be a private deck. This is the first card I did – the Hanged Man. It felt like a good place to start.”

Goten looked at the picture curiously. In it, a man hung upside down from a wall by one leg. Below him was a peach tree, and the man had one arm extended to pluck a peach from the highest branch. He was dressed in old-fashioned shirt, sash, and pants and, curiously, a tail swung behind him, curling up into a question-mark shape. The legs of another man dangled from where he sat perched mostly out of sight on the wall above the hanging man, his own tail snaking down to wrap around the other man’s ankle and hold him up. The hanged man had a slight smile of satisfaction, and his hair hung below him in a black curtain.

“The Hanged Man represents epiphany through upheaval,” Daikon explained as Goten examined the sketch, “See the two ogres at the base of the tree and the pile of armor? A traditional approach won’t work, so the Hanged Man sacrifices his armor and approaches the challenge from a new direction, attaining his goal and, in the process, gaining a new perspective – he reaches for the peach, but his eyes look over the viewer’s head at an unseen horizon-”

“And he’s you.” Goten interrupted.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say-”

“He’s wearing your bandana, Daikon, he has your face and hair – it’s you with a tail in different clothes as an adult.”

Daikon laughed, “Okay, okay, guilty- I’ve always identified with the Hanged Man, so I figured, why not?”

Goten snorted, “These aren’t _all_ going to be self-portraits, are they?”

Daikon grinned and waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, just this one. I made up everyone else.”

“Good. I didn’t think you were that vain, but…” Goten let his words trail off and looked at the sketch again. “It’ll be neat to see this in colour – you’ll bring in the canvases tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I keep them at home so they can dry properly. I love working in oil paint, but it can be a little nerve-wracking waiting for it to dry, for reasons demonstrated last Monday.” Daikon raised a pointed eyebrow.

Goten put one hand behind his head in embarrassment and quickly changed the subject. “So, who’s the guy holding you up?”

His tactic worked like a charm, as the other teen happily went back to his explanation. “Oh, that’s one of the bits that’s specific to my deck – usually the Hanged Man is held up by a rope or a vine or something. He’s obscured in this card, but that’s actually the Magician – he’s another card, one of the ones I’m doing for my project. Actually, I just finished him the week before last; I’ll bring him in tomorrow. He turned out way better than his sketch. He technically comes before the Hanged Man, but I did these out of order. And, continuing in that out-of-order vein, next up is the Tower.”

‘The Tower’ was a picture of a grand, if slightly alien, castle at night being struck by an enormous bolt of lightning and crumbling. In the foreground, his back to the viewer, stood a young child in royal robes, his dark hair a flame against the lighter castle. His tail dragged on the ground behind him, and a simple crown was in the process of falling from limp fingers. Two large figures knelt in the corners, also facing the castle, one bald, the other with a mass of hair, despair reflected in their postures.

“The Tower is destruction of something you have worked for and treasured. This thing you treasured no longer serves you as it once did, and though through its loss may come your own salvation, its loss will still be painful and cut deep.”

Next was ‘the Devil,” represented by a short but evil-looking creature in strange armor with wicked-looking horns, a fleshy tail, and lips that curved into a cruel smile as it stared straight at the viewer. In one hand it clenched the Hanged Man’s tail, in the other the tail of the child from the Tower, if his hair was anything to go by, though he was older in this picture and his face was still obscured, and finally in one strange, three-toed foot was the tail of a large, bald man with a thin mustache framing his mouth. All three figures wore old-fashioned armor and were writhing on the ground in obvious agony.

“The Devil represents a project or endeavor that consumes all you have, giving nothing but enslavement and ruin in return. It warns that if you continue on your current path, you will be consumed by it.”

“I thought you weren’t in any more cards,” Goten shifted in his seat. He didn’t remember ever having a tail, but the scene made him uncomfortable nevertheless.

“I said only the Hanged Man was a self-portrait,” Daikon corrected, “One of the things I wanted to do was tell stories with the cards. The Hanged Man’s story begins at the Tower and leads to the Devil before he ultimately sheds his armor and old life to take a new perspective and become the Hanged Man. He,” he pointed at the bald man, “Finishes his journey in the Moon card, and the Prince has another three before he’s done.”

“The prince?” Goten gave the final figure a closer look, “Is that another card?”

“No,” Daikon shook his head, “There’s an Emperor card, it’s one of the ones I’m doing, but it doesn’t suit his temperament. Besides, he’ll never be king, let alone an emperor.”

“Huh?” Goten glanced at his partner. To his surprised, Daikon blushed and, for a brief moment, his ki rose slightly, though it lowered just as quickly.

“Nothing. The prince is just a character I’ve had in my head for a long time, ignore me.”

Shrugging, Goten turned the page and froze.

“That’s ‘Strength,’” Daikon explained, going on about something to do with darker aspects of the self and healing and accepting them, turning weakness into strength, but Goten was only half-listening. He was focused on the sketch.

In a field stood two figures. On the left, a woman in a cheongsam reached out to the other with a confident smile, her stance sure and steady, offering a new robe. In the other hand she held a bottle of medicine, and an abacus hung from the sash at her waist. The other figure was the ‘prince’ from the previous two cards, standing so he had his back three-quarters towards the viewer, but you could finally see his face. He was older again, and his armor was battered and broken, his clothing torn and dirty, and he was scowling. Yet the hand reaching for the robe seemed cautious, almost hesitant, and the sword that should have been in the sheath at his hip was instead stuck in the ground some distance away. All in all it was a strong piece, successfully capturing the instant trust was first earned, but the thing that captured Goten’s attention most firmly was that it was obviously a picture of Bulma and Vegeta. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection in the previous pictures – Vegeta’s hair was rather distinctive. The thing was, though, that Bulma was a fairly prominent figure in the media, so such as accurate picture of her wasn’t hugely surprising. Vegeta, however… wasn’t. The paparazzi had tried to get to him early on in the game, but it had been awhile since a reporter or photographer had barged in on the Briefs family uninvited.

They had learned.

“Didn’t you say you made these people up?” Goten asked casually. Daikon looked at what Goten was staring at and groaned.

“I know, I know, she looks like the head of Capsule Corp. I tried drawing her differently, but it didn’t feel right, and tarot’s as much about the feel of an image as what’s actually depicted. So I made her a monkey, gave her lavender hair in the final painting, and called it good. She’s in a few other cards as well – she actually fills the role of the Empress in this deck, which kinda suits Mrs. Briefs from what I’ve heard. I definitely made up the prince, though – I know I’d remember having seen hair like that before!”

“…she’s a monkey? She looks human to me.”

Daikon pointed to where a tail curled inquisitively up behind Bulma. “I wanted to do the Monkey King theme, but I like drawing humans more than animals, so I gave them tails and am saying they’re anthropomorphized and some other fancy crap if Miss Canvaas inquires further.” He winked. “Besides, we supposedly all evolved from apes, anyway – it’s not too far a stretch.”

“Sure, I guess.” Goten turned the page.

At that moment, the bell rang and Daikon flipped his book shut. “I’ll show you the rest tomorrow and bring in some of my canvases – think about how I can make it better, ‘kay?”

“ ‘kay,” Goten mumbled as he stared at the retreating student. He’d only had a moment to look at the sketch, but it felt like it had been burned into his mind in that instant. It had been of a single figure on a rocky mountain, dressed as a warrior monk, who held a staff in one hand and a ball of ki in the other, his expression open and inviting. And, although the sketch was in shades of grey, Goten knew without being told that the figure’s clothes would be mostly orange and his spikey hair would be golden, because it was a picture of his father in super saiyan, something no one outside the Z warriors and their families remembered ever seeing.

Trunks wasn’t going to believe this…

\---

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 _‘Called it.’_ “Seriously, Trunks! It looked just like them – if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d either known us all for years or asked our parents to pose for him! And he can’t have done either!”

Trunks dodged an elbow jab and aimed a kick at Goten’s chest. “Maybe he’s seen pictures. There’s a few of my dad floating around out there, and everyone was on camera at the Cell Games, and in super saiyan form.”

Goten grabbed Trunks’ ankle before his foot could connect and twisted. “As if – we’ve both seen those clips – the camera’s focused on Hercule, everyone else is in the background or moving way too fast to be clearly seen. All you can really see is that there’re some blonde people doing _something_ back there. That clown wouldn’t have gotten away with his stories if you could really see what our families were doing.”

“I guess.” Trunks spun in the air and snapped his leg in, trying to get inside Goten’s guard, but the other semi-saiyan released his grip and leapt backwards instead. “It’s just… weird. Something’s going on, obviously, but this doesn’t sound like how any of the other adventures started. The Budokai isn’t even for another few years! And what’s the point of all this?! I mean, paintings and fortune-telling? Give me a break!”

The two continued sparring for a few more minutes, thinking.

“Invite him to sit with us at lunch tomorrow,” Trunks finally announced, “Tell him I’m interested in his project, and wanna see his sketchbook. We’ll sit outside, so other people can’t overhear us. You guys can talk about your projects and we’ll see if we can’t find out more about him, and where he gets his inspiration from.”

“What if he says no?” Goten went in for a headlock.

“Be persuasive.” Trunks caught his arm and shoulder and flipped him onto the mat, pinning him. “And I believe that’s match to me. Now, where’s my victory kiss?”

“Pervert,” Goten grumbled, but he responded willingly enough when Trunks leaned in for a quick smooch before they got up to start their next round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! First off, thanks for reading! Second off, yeah, there’s a little Truten in this one, however this is about the as heavy as it’s going to get – a little reference here and there, maybe another kiss, that’s it. They’re also the only ship in this fic that is non-canon – Bulma’s married to Vegeta, Goku’s married to Chichi, Krillin’s married to 18, and none of these facts are going to change. Also, I should have mentioned last chapter, but my Goten and Trunks were heavily inspired by the versions seen in Liquor, Lingerie, and Leather Bound Musings by Nameless Musings, especially the bit about Goten being in an art class, a tidbit I adored. Goten being interested in art in this story is meant as a tribute and ‘hey, that was a really cool idea’ sort of thing.
> 
> On the tarot cards: I don’t actually do tarot readings myself. I do find it an intriguing subject, however, and I adore the potential for symbolism it has. I did a fair bit of research for each card, and put a lot of thought into who would be appearing on each one. The main reference I used was the handbook that goes with The Steampunk Tarot by Barbara Moore and Aly Fell, which I borrowed from a friend. While I have summarized the meaning of each card mentioned, the baseline definition is accurate.
> 
> On the Monkey King Tarot, specifically: I have all 22 major arcana mapped out as to who appears on what, and they are all carefully selected cast members from DBZ. A surprising number of them matched up to various cards very neatly. Sadly, I was unable to fit them all into this fic without making it feel overly contrived, so you won’t be seeing them all. I may mention a few more that didn’t make it into the fic proper at the end of the last chapter, or in a sequel, should I ever write one.
> 
> Evolution: Daikon apparently believes in it, or at least is comfortable enough with the concept to joke about it. Your opinions on the matter are up to you.
> 
> Next chapter? Up next Friday! Thanks so much for reading! ^U^


	3. Death and Peaches

“That’s ‘Death,’” Daikon gestured at the sketch with his spoon as Trunks and Goten looked over the picture of Piccolo, “Most people assume the worst when they first encounter it, mostly because of inaccurate media representations, but it generally represents the end of one cycle and the beginning of a new one – it’ll represent actual, physical death in maybe one in a hundred readings.”

Daikon had been pretty easy to convince to join them. Apparently he generally ate alone. Now the three teens were sitting under an old oak tree in the schoolyard, looking over Daikon’s sketchbook. True to his word, the teen had brought in the canvases of the sketches he’d shown Goten the day before. He’d been right – the ‘Magician,’ aka Son Goku, had turned out beautifully, especially considering the fact that, as far as anyone knew, Daikon had never met Goku. Now they were looking at pictures further in the book, Goten with a sense of mingled curiosity and trepidation, Trunks with every apparent sign of genuine interest.

“What’s with the pointy ears and no eyebrows?” the demi-saiyan in question asked, as though he had no idea who the person in the picture was, “Isn’t your theme the Monkey King?”

“Yeah, but Death’s complex, so it’s extra metaphorical,” the tall teen adjusted his glasses, “It’s meant to represent how Death is familiar, something we are intimately linked to and aware of – hence the humanoid shape – and yet at the same time it’s utterly alien, something we can’t ever truly understand. See his claws? Society views him as dangerous, yet the young boy in the picture stands before him unharmed.”

“Is the boy another card? Goten says your ‘characters’ tend to wander around.”

“He’s the Hierophant, he represents scholarly pursuits and spiritual wisdom, walking your talk,” Daikon momentarily turned his attention back to the jar of… stuff… he was eating.

Goten wrinkled his nose. “What is that gunk, anyway? It looks like it’s already been chewed.”

“Peach crisp,” was the matter-of-fact response, “And while it does look better _before_ you mush it into an empty peanut butter jar, it still _tastes_ divine afterwards.” Smirking, he stuck a large spoonful in his mouth. “Mmm, delicious.”

“I think I’m going to be sick...”

“So, what’s the ball thingy?” Trunks interrupted, pointing at the dragon ball Piccolo was handing Gohan.

“Something I made up as a kid – I call them ‘treasure orbs.’” Daikon turned his attention back to his art. “The Hierophant usually wears that one on top of his hat, in his crown chakra, representing his mastery of the knowledge within. Usually the Hierophant is a teacher, but in this case he’s the student, showing that there are mysteries even the greatest scholar can still learn from. He has approached one such mystery, Death, unafraid, and in return receives wisdom in the form of the treasure orb. The six stars represent the four elements, life, and death.”

“Neat.”

“Thanks. I’m actually thinking of adding treasure orbs to more of my pictures, like sliding one into the roots of the tree in the Hanged Man?” he grinned at Goten, “You were saying another unifying factor beyond the tails and stuff might be a good idea.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Goten wrenched his attention away from the jar in the other boy’s hands. “Are you going to put them in all your cards or just the ones in this project? I mean, how many of these orbs _are_ there?”

Daikon shrugged. “Seven or nine, usually – I’ll repeat them throughout the cards.”

“Any significance to that?”

“Sacred numbers.” Daikon took another bite of peach crisp.

Trunks snorted. “You sure seem to know a lot about new-agey stuff.”

“I should, my dad reads tarot professionally and my mum’s an energy healer. Honestly, I’m surprised you two _don’t_ know more about this stuff.”

“Why do you say that?” Trunks asked mildly.

Daikon glanced at them, surprise evident in his face. “Well, you’re both ki-users, right? I just assumed-” he halted as Trunks and Goten’s gazes sharpened on him.

“How do you know about that?” Trunks demanded, tone cold.

Daikon blinked. “I… can sense ki?”

“But we’ve got it suppressed- ow!” Goten rubbed his head where Trunks had hit it.

The long-haired teen was looking at them curiously now. “Really? You both have way more than normal people; why not keep it lower if you don’t want people to notice?”

“Why don’t you tell us how you can sense us, first?” Trunks growled.

“Dude, chill!” Daikon glared at him. “Lots of people I know can sense ki, including the rest of my family! It’s one of those things you tend to pick up in the spiritual community and it’s not that hard – back off!”

It was the other two’s turn to blink. “Really?”

“Yes!” Daikon continued glaring, “And unless you’ve been living under a rock, I don’t see how you don’t know tha- oh, wait a sec,” he paused as a thought occurred to him. “Are you guys martial artists or something?”

The two half-breeds exchanged a look and Trunks spoke for them both. “Yeah, we’ve both been training since we were little kids.”

“That explains it, then,” Daikon sat back with a look of understanding, “You can build ki through spiritual arts or martial arts – I’m just more used to encountering the former these days, and most of the martial artists I knew weren’t really aware of ki.”

“So, you’ve done martial arts _and_ this spirit stuff,” Trunks commented shrewdly, “But your ki’s almost non-existent. How hard do you have it suppressed?”

“I don’t,” Daikon’s expression was smug now, “I keep the majority of my ki dormant when I’m not using it.”

Goten tilted his head to the side. “What’s the difference?”

The long-haired teen shrugged. “Suppressed ki, people still see you just fine. If you send your ki dormant, however… you’re harder to notice. People see you, but their gaze just sorta slides over you instead of sticking.” Shifting his focus, Daikon’s ki rose to a more normal level for an average person, and he seemed to come into sharper focus.

“So _that’s_ why we didn’t remember seeing you before!” Trunks gave a satisfied nod, “I _knew_ I wouldn’t have missed an ass like yours!”

Goten glared at his boyfriend as Daikon turned scarlet. “Is there a _reason_ you make yourself so hard to see?”

Daikon shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t get along well with most people. It’s easier like this; if they don’t notice me, I don’t have to interact with them.”

“You seem pretty at ease with us,” Trunks pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Daikon tilted his head and squinted at them a bit, “It’s like… you guys are easier to read than most people.”

They sat in silence for a moment, digesting this new information. As often happened when it was just him and Goten, Trunks broke the silence.

“Okay, can you teach us how to make our ki go dormant? Because that sounds like a stupidly useful skill.”

“No!” Goten interrupted before Daikon could respond, “I am 100% against this idea, on the grounds that Trunks is a big enough pain in the ass as it is _without_ adding pseudo-invisibility to his skill set!” he held his hands across his chest in an x of denial. “No way!”

Just then the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.

“Want to meet at my place after school and trade ki techniques?” Trunks offered as they packed up and headed in.

“Can’t- I watch my sisters after school on weekdays.”

“Saturday, then,” Trunks gave a winning smile.

“Sure, Saturday.” Giving them a two-finger salute, Daikon started jogging off towards the school.

“And you better sit with us again tomorrow!” the lavender-haired half-breed shouted cheerfully after the retreating figure, who waved an acknowledgement over one shoulder without pausing.

***

 

“Are you sure that was a good idea, Trunks?” Goten asked later as they were walking back to Capsule Corp, “Inviting Daikon over to your house like that?”

“Oh, it was better than a good idea, chibi,” Trunks smirked, looking very much like his father, “It’s brilliant! And it worked better than I could have hoped!”

“Because everyone’s coming over on Saturday?”

“Exactly!” Trunks pointed one finger in the air in triumph, “Either his cover will be blown or we find out this is all the biggest coincidence in the history of the world! Either way, come Saturday, we find out the truth about Daikon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The misrepresentation of the Death card and things similar to it in popular media actually does annoy me a lot – it breeds fear around something that people don’t actually need to be scared of. Personally, I’m not scared of death. That a great deal of pain might proceed my death, yes, totally, but not the dying itself.
> 
> I have done the peanut-butter jar thing, but with apple crisp. Because I don’t like peaches.
> 
> Ki-sensing: I don’t think this would actually be very hard to do – saiyans might be better at it than humans, but Goku’s able to do it from the beginning of the entire series with no training at all and a much, much lower power level (and yes, I’ve done my power level research as well as my tarot research), so I don’t think humans would have many problems with it with a little training.
> 
> On sensing Goten and Trunks’ ki: I imagine they keep their levels pretty low at school, just because I’ve always gotten the impression you can feel another person’s ki, regardless of ki-sensing abilities, if it’s higher than your own by a great enough amount, but I don’t think they’d keep it as low as your average human’s. More like in the low 100s as opposed to the upper 100,000s, or whatever.
> 
> “Wait, are you saying there’s a bunch of humans running around with higher-than-average ki and none of the Z warriors noticed?”  
> Actually, yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying, but for good reasons. There’s humans out there with decent power levels – the competitors from the old-fashioned Budokais can’t have died out entirely – if you ignore the saiyan insanity. Also, I’m taking a page out of the Namekian handbook in this instance, specifically that you get two types of ki-users: fighting types and healing types. Dragon Ball and DBZ focus on the fighting type humans, but I see no reason we can’t have healers interspersed in the population as well. As for why the healers have never been targeted by the bad guys who can sense ki, my concept is that a healer’s ki feels somewhat different than a fighter’s ki – gentler, less active – so if you’re looking for someone who’s gonna fight you, it would be really easy to overlook a healer, because their ki wouldn’t stand out as much. This is not to say that a healer can’t learn martial arts or a fighter can’t do some healing – we’ve seen various characters lend each other energy before in DBZ (though that may have happened mostly in the movies – gonna be honest, I read this series, I didn’t watch it). But a fighter’s not going to be able to perform complicated healing techniques, like mending a broken arm, and likewise a healer’s not going to be able to fire an energy blast without doing themselves some serious damage as well.
> 
> Building ki through spiritual arts vs martial arts: as far as I’m aware? True facts, yo. At least in this world. If you believe in this stuff. ;)
> 
> The length of these ANs: honestly, this is me limiting myself. I do insane amounts of world-building in my head, but a lot of it never comes up in the fics I write just because there’s no way to reasonably have the characters discuss it. But it’s still neat stuff (I think) that is at play in the fic, so I’m doing my best to let you guys in on stuff without going crazy with these notes. I am dubious of my success in the latter half of that goal…


	4. Love and Hate

Daikon ate lunch with them for the rest of the week, during which time they learned he had two younger sisters – Ninjin, age 12, and Cuca, age 6 – he supposedly came up with his tarot characters from ‘dreams’ he’d been having as long as he could remember, and he had a wicked sense of humor that easily trumped his shyness over certain topics.

“I had another ‘Lovers’ card designed, but I thought this one might be better. What do you think?”

Daikon’s smirk was positively _evil_ as he turned to the most recent page of his sketchbook, revealing a picture of Trunks and Goten in his Monkey King Tarot style. They were dressed in simple kimonos and tangled together, tails entwined. Trunks was nuzzling a kiss into Goten’s neck, and Goten was running the hand not knotted into the back of Trunks’ kimono through his partner’s lavender hair, eyes half-lidded and warm. Delicate trees framed the picture, and in the distant background were the silhouettes of two castles. The overall effect was sensuous without being explicit, though it was clear that, in the scene at least, explicit acts were only a few minutes away.

Goten stared at the picture, quietly mortified. Trunks appeared enraptured.

“ I _need_ this painting,” he breathed, eyes never leaving the sketch, “Seriously, I will commission you to paint this, full size, in oils, name your price.”

“Trunks…” Goten groaned, turning even redder. “You’re not seriously going to use this for one of your cards, are you?” he added to Daikon.

“Nah, I’ve got another picture for the Lovers, and it’s part of the prince’s storyline, so I can’t get rid of it, even if I wanted to. I will _totally_ do a commission of this, though,” he grinned, flipping through his sketchbook, “The Lovers is about the union of opposites to create a greater whole than the sum of their parts, two things or people that are perfect for each other coming together, following your heart to make exactly the right choice- ah, here it is!”

The sketch was, of course, Bulma and Vegeta. They faced each other, turned three-quarters towards the viewer. Bulma wore a slightly more elegant cheogsam than she had in the last picture, though an abacus still hung from the sash at her waist. Vegeta wore what was probably the robe Bulma had been offering him in the Strength card, and he stood tall and whole, dressed as a ronin with his sword hanging unobtrusively by his side. They stood close together, shoulders touching, tails gently looped together by their feet, and, held in front of them, Bulma’s right hand lay palm to palm with Vegeta’s left, their fingers entwined. Both figures stared at their clasped hands, Bulma with a look of gentle contentment, Vegeta as though he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, the faintest of smiles quirking up one corner of his mouth. Behind them was a jungle, though clouds could be seen through the trees. A small waterfall splashed behind Bulma, and a campfire burned behind Vegeta. At their feet, directly below their clasped hands, was the one star dragon ball. Though it lacked the sensual feeling of the other sketch, the picture felt incredibly intimate.

“Wow,” Goten breathed, “I would never have thought- it makes you want what they have, right Trunks? Trunks?” he turned to see his friend staring at the picture as though he were committing it to memory, every line, every detail.

He was saved from having to make up an excuse for his friend by the lunch bell ringing. Daikon scooped up his sketchbook with a cheerful ‘see you tomorrow!’ and trotted off to class.

After waving goodbye, Goten turned to where Trunks was still staring at the place where the sketch had been. “Trunks? You okay?”

Trunks looked up at him then, eyes cold. “He’d better not be playing us. Because if he is, I swear to Dende, I’ll kill him myself.”

***

 

“Hey Trunks, Goten! We met a friend of yours on at the gate!” Gohan called cheerfully as he and his family came out onto the patio by the garden, Daikon trailing behind shyly. Bulma turned from where she’d been chatting with Krillin and Yamcha to smile at them and walk over.

“Hi, I’m Bulma Briefs – Trunks and Goten are sparring with my husband, but they’ll be out in a minute.” She held out her hand. “Have we met before? You look kinda familiar.”

“No, I’m Daikon.” He shook her hand, “My family only moved to this area a couple years ago. Pleased to meet you, Bulma.”

She beamed at him, “Oh thank Dende, you’re not one of those kids whose arms I’m going to have to twist to get them to call me by my name! Are bandanas coming into style again?”

Touching his forehead, the young man laughed. “Nah, I’ve just got the world’s dumbest widow’s peak; hence the double protection of bangs and forehead covering.”

“I don’t know about ‘world’s dumbest,’” Bulma chuckled, “I think my husband has that one in the bag.”

“Hey, Daikon, over here!”

Daikon turned to see Trunks waving at him and walking over, Goten a couple steps behind him. He joined them quickly, growling, “You didn’t say your _families_ and all their _friends_ were going to be here!”

“Didn’t I? Oops.” Trunks gave him a beatific smile, “Must have slipped my mind.”

“Bastard,” the other teen grumbled as he fell into step beside them, “I told you, I don’t like being around peop-”

“Hi, all!” Goku chose that moment to poke his head through the door, followed by the rest of him and Chichi. “You’ll never guess who we found!”

Gohan beamed as the third newcomer ducked through the door. “Piccolo! Good to see-”

He was interrupted by a thud, and all eyes turned to look at the three teenagers. Daikon had had his backpack tucked casually under one arm, but now it was on the ground and his eyes were fixed on the Namekian, pupils the size of pinpricks.

“You…” he breathed, shock writ large over his face, “I remember you…” suddenly shock was replaced by rage, and his ki spiked far higher than anyone would have expected from an outsider to the group. “ _You killed me_!”

Shooting forward faster than the normal eye could follow, the enraged teenager’s first wild swing was easily blocked by the self-proclaimed Demon King while the rest of the group stood and stared in shock. Howling in rage, the teen continued his assault while Piccolo blocked easily until a hand grabbed the teen’s braid and yanked him roughly away. The teen howled again, this time in pain, and twisted to glare at his attacker. “Dammit, Vegeta, let me go!”

The prince of all saiyans regarded him coolly. “Interesting. I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.” He neatly swept the taller male’s legs out from under him, then pinned him on his back. “Now, why do I get the feeling that if I had a scouter on, your power level would be exactly 1500?”

The teen stared up at him, face white, eyes wide as the rest of the group drew closer. “No… please, I’m _sorry_ -”

“Tch,” Vegeta snorted and pushed Daikon’s bandana up off his forehead, sweeping the bangs up with it. “Thought so.”

Half the group stared in stunned recognition at the distinctive widow’s peak that transformed the youth’s face into one they still remembered. Vegeta, however, sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Hello, Raditz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that whole thing about Daikon being an OC? Totally lied about that. I figured it would be too easy to see what I was doing otherwise and, well… I do have ‘trickster’ right there in my name. It’s there for a reason. ;)  
> Hands up who looked up ‘daikon,’ saw it was Japanese for ‘radish,’ and totally saw this coming!  
> As for why Trunks is upset by the true Lovers card – he grew up with Bulma and Vegeta, he’s used to seeing them flirt/fight and has walked in on them a few times he really wishes he hadn’t, but he’s not used to seeing many moments of real tenderness between the two of them. He’d honestly have preferred a picture more like the one of him and Goten – that would feel less personal to him.  
> This fic makes me wish I was a better artist, so I could draw these cards as well as describe them, but my current skill level wouldn’t do the pictures in my head justice.  
> … yeah, short chapter. But, bonus, short notes, too! The next chapter’s going to be much longer, and it’s also going to have bonus material in the form of extra tarot card descriptions, too! And I could have made this chapter longer, but… look at that cliff-hanger! Look at it! I’m never going to have such a perfect opportunity for a cliff-hanger that mean again! How could I deny it?


	5. Radishes

_The teen stared up at him, face white, eyes wide as the rest of the group drew closer. “No… please, I’m sorry-”_

_“Tch,” Vegeta snorted and pushed Daikon’s bandana up off his forehead, sweeping the bangs up with it. “Thought so.”_

_Half the group stared in stunned recognition at the distinctive widow’s peak that transformed the youth’s face into one they still remembered. Vegeta, however, sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Hello, Raditz.”_

 

***

 

“Raditz?!” Chichi was the first to snap out of her stupor and went straight into rage, “Raditz, Goku’s evil older brother? Raditz, who stole my son and got my husband _killed_? _That_ Raditz!?!”

“No!” the teen’s expressed was terrified and he tried to sit up, only to have Vegeta force him back down, “I’m not him!”

“Don’t you dare lie to me – I knew you for over twenty years, weakling. You think you can fool me?” Vegeta sneered, putting a hand on the taller male’s throat.

He went still, staring at Vegeta, before finally closing his eyes and letting his head fall back in submission. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and resigned. “I’m not lying, my prince. I’m not Raditz- not anymore. But… I used to be.” Opening his eyes again, he watched Vegeta unhappily. “Now I’m just a kid who’s been dreaming about how badly he screwed up last time around for as long as he can remember, and who’s trying to do better this time.” dropping his eyes, he swallowed. “Please let me up. I never had a prayer of beating you before, I definitely can’t now. I promise I won’t attack the green guy again, or anyone else – as if I’m actually a threat to anyone here.” He snorted. “Still, I dare you to encounter Frieza and not do the same thing.”

Silently, Vegeta stood and took a step backwards. The being who was once Raditz lay on the ground a moment longer, then sat up and pulled his bandana back down, silently smoothing his bangs forward to complete the transformation. He stood, allowing his ki to go dormant again, sinking back down to barely-noticeable levels, and looked around the circle until he found Goten and Trunks standing between 18 and Yamcha. Turning to them, he bowed.

“I apologise for this. I didn’t realise- I thought they were just dreams. The parts that weren’t Raditz’s life- I thought it was the bit of me that’s still him dreaming about… never mind. If I’d known they were real, I wouldn’t have come. I’ll destroy the pictures, and I’ll stay away from you in school.” He straightened, still not meeting their eyes, and turned back to Vegeta. He bowed again, more formally this time, with his right hand in a fist over his heart. Then he quietly walked over to where he had dropped his bag, the circle of watchers parting to let him through. Gathering it up and still not meeting anyone’s eye, he walked back across the patio, towards the door.

“Hey, wait a moment!”

He paused, hand on the door handle, but did not look back at where Goku had called out to him. “Yes?”

“That thing you’re doing with your ki – how are you suppressing it so low? And making yourself all blurry?” Goku’s voice held nothing but his usual interest in learning a new technique.

The long-haired teen swallowed. “It’s not suppressed, it’s dormant. It’s a variant on the technique.”

“Show me how.”

The long braid swayed as he shook his head in refusal. “I have nothing to teach that you’d want to learn.” But he made no move to open the door, even as he heard footsteps approaching behind him.

“Hey,” Goku put a hand on his shoulder and leaned into his peripheral vision, a small, encouraging smile on his face, “Show me how. We used to be brothers.”

They were almost the same height, he noticed distantly as Goku stood there smiling at him. He bit his lip, trying to will his eyes not to water. “That’s not what you said before, and you were right to say it. I lost the right to call you ‘brother’ when I got us both killed. You don’t need to do this.”

“True.” Goku removed his hand and held his chin, considering, “I don’t need to. Raditz was a real jerk when I met him. But so was Vegeta. And so were Piccolo and Tienshinhan and Chaotzu and Yamcha and Bulma and even Krillin. And they’re all my friends now, because they got more than one chance. So,” he held out his hand and gave one of his well-known smiles, “My name’s Son Goku. I hear you’ve got a neat ki technique- show me how to do it?”

He looked at the proffered hand, then at Goku, then at the rest of the group, expression torn. So subtly that he almost missed it, the man he had once pledged his life in service to nodded to him. He turned back to Goku and took his hand, smiling hesitantly at first, then with more assurance. “My name’s Daikon. And I’d be honoured to teach you anything you want to learn.”

 

***

 

After Daikon’s secret had been revealed, to his surprise, Daikon, Trunks, and Goten had continued to hang out and get to know each other better. Daikon had been a little shocked at how easily the group had accepted him, but apparently he wasn’t the first reincarnated, reformed person they had encountered.

Actually, the strangest thing about the situation wasn’t even that half Daikon’s stories involved events that happened before any of the three of them were born; it was how he interacted with his former prince whenever their paths crossed. At first the teen had been subdued and a bit hesitant around everyone, uncertain as to how far their welcome stretched. A few hours teaching Goku how to send ki dormant, however, had apparently been enough to get him over his initial nerves. Once that happened, he’d slipped back to being his usual cheerful, snarky self around everyone.

Including Vegeta.

Who, for some reason, had yet to go ballistic at the youth for his behavior. The closest he had come had been the time he walked into the kitchen and found the long-haired teen telling Goten and Trunks an amusing but rather embarrassing story about an escapade the former saiyan and his prince had been involved in when they were near Trunks’ age. The prince in question had walked over, lifted Daikon out of the chair by his shirt, and informed him of exactly what would happen if he finished that story.

To which Daikon had responded, “Yes, your highness,” and batted his eyelashes.

Vegeta had let out a huff, dropped the teen back in his chair, and stomped away again. At which point Daikon had picked up the story where he’d left off.

Goten had interrupted while Trunks gaped at him. “Dude!”

“What?”

“That was _Vegeta_ just now, you know!”

Daikon blinked at him, then rubbed his head. “Right, I should stop, sorry. I get a little confused around him sometimes, need to work on that.”

Trunks stared at him. “Why and how could my dad confuse you? He’s one of the bluntest people I know.”

“ ‘cause as Raditz I knew him for most of my life. I mean, I _met_ Goku. I _knew_ Vegeta. I’ve never encountered anyone Raditz actually _knew_ before.” Daikon looked uncomfortable. “It’s like… I see him and slip into old habits I didn’t even know I had.”

“Raditz used to mouth off to my dad?”

“Raditz used to mouth off to everyone.” Daikon raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, you’ve met my parents, you know what they’re like. Did you honestly think I got my bad attitude from _them_?”

Goten blinked. “But… I thought you respected Vegeta?”

“I do- did- still do.” Daikon growled. “Dammit, language was not developed with this sort of eventuality in mind! Look, I respect Vegeta and admire him, and so did Raditz. But neither of us were ever scared of him until I thought he was going to kill me when he found out who I used to be.”

“Bull,” Trunks stuck his tongue out at him, “The only people who aren’t scared of my dad are my mom and _his_ dad.” He jerked a thumb at Goten, who nodded. “Oh, and maybe Grandma. It’s a little hard to tell with her, though.”

Daikon shrugged. “Lots of people weren’t scared of Vegeta in Raditz’s time, though most of them were stronger than him. Nappa and I weren’t really scared, though, even though he was stronger than us. He was our prince, and we were the last of the saiyans. If he killed us, he’d have been alone. We were loyal to him, so he had no reason to kill us.” Daikon winced suddenly.

“Then again, Raditz’s survival instincts were always pretty abysmal, so that probably played a part as well. Looking at some of the crap I know he did, sometimes I can’t believe he lived long enough to actually go and try and find Goku.” Daikon leaned back in his chair. “And that’s just the stuff I _remember_ – there’s no way that’s everything he did.”

There was a moment’s silence, then, “You keep switching pronouns,” Trunks commented, “Sometimes when you’re talking about Raditz’s life you say ‘he’ and sometimes you say ‘I.’ How come?”

“Language failing me again,” Daikon groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Our language isn’t made for these situations – in fact I’m pretty sure stuff like this plain old isn’t supposed to happen! Look, the best I’ve ever come up with is that I was Raditz, but he was never me. I say ‘I’ because I _did_ do that stuff, when I was him. ‘I’ swore my life to Prince Vegeta; ‘I’ used to be one of the weakest soldiers working for Frieze, kept mostly because I was a rarity. But ‘he’ has never read tarot cards or painted them; ‘he’ never met his other nephew. ‘I’ don’t have any nephews. And… ‘he’ never got to see our prince content with his life. So, yeah,” he shifted abruptly, “It’s easier to just switch back and forth than to say something like ‘the person I was who was not me’ every time.” he rubbed his forehead again. “Can we talk about something else? This is giving me a headache.”

“Okay,” Trunks had nodded, “So, have you started on my commission yet?”

***

Mostly, though, Daikon avoided the older generation of Z warriors in favour of Trunks and Goten’s company. It was easier for everyone that way.

Now, about a month after his secret had been revealed, Trunks was pestering him in the cafeteria.

“Come on, you still practice martial arts, you have to – that attack on Piccolo was way too clean for you to have actually quit them.”

“I never said I quit,” Daikon said crossly, pulling an orange apart, “I said I quit competing. There’s a difference.”

“That’s a pretty fine distinction.”

“Yeah, well, I used to be something of a liar, so.” He bit into an orange slice grumpily. “Double talk is actually a step up for me. Besides, you two are like demi-gods or something – if I tried to spar with you, I’d get broken.”

“We’d keep our power levels close to yours,” Goten protested.

“Like a toothpick,” Daikon emphasized, “Snap. And why do you even _want_ to spar with me, anyway? We have already established that you are out of my league, and have been since at least kindergarten!”

The two demi-saiyans grinned at each other and Goten answered. “Ki attacks. Almost nobody other than our dads and their friends know how to use them. But you used to be saiyan, you fight, and you’ve got the ki levels for it – Trunks bet me twenty zeni you’ve got some cool new attacks.”

The long-haired teen quirked an eyebrow at him while cleaning white bits off another slice of orange. “You don’t think I know any cool attacks?”

“I think you use Raditz’s old ones,” Goten clarified, “Trunks thinks you made up new ones.”

Daikon snorted. “Well, you’re both wrong – I don’t do ki attacks at all.”

“Don’t or can’t?” Trunks asked shrewdly.

“Don’t, for very good reasons.” Daikon responded, “I’m wired wrong for it now – I’m not a warrior this time around.”

“What are you, then?”

“Not telling.” The orange slice apparently meeting his satisfaction in regards to cleanliness, Daikon popped it in his mouth.

“Why not?” Goten asked.

“Because if I tell you, one way or another, Vegeta _will_ find out and he will proceed to mock me to death. I’d like to make it to thirty this time, thanks all the same.”

“Not gonna budge on this one?”

“I’m really not.”

“Fine, then we’ll leave you alone about it,” Trunks said generously.

Daikon blinked. “Oh... Thanks. I thought you’d-”

“ _If_ you spar with us.”

“-no, wait, I take it back, you’re still a jerk.” Daikon glowered. “I just finished telling you I don’t do ki the way you were interested in – why are you pursuing this?”

“It occurred to me that the whole ‘dormant ki’ thing could be interesting in a fight, too,” Trunks smirked, “You went blurry for a moment there, and you still haven’t shown us how to do it.”

Daikon groaned. “Okay, fine, I’ll spar with you. You’re paying for the funeral when I die, though.” Goten and Trunks exchanged a high five and the long-haired teen glared at them. “Are you guys sure I’m the only reincarnated one around here? Because you two seem pretty evil to me.”

Goten gave him his most innocent look. “Us? Evil? How can you say such cruel things?”

“…if that’s an attempt to get me to throw my orange at you so that _you_ can eat it, it’s not gonna work.”

The black-haired demi-saiyan laughed and shrugged. “Worth a shot. So, have you decided what you’re going to do with your paintings, yet?”

At Goten and Trunks’ encouragement, Daikon hadn’t destroyed the Monkey King Tarot after all. He had, however, been debating with himself over changing some of the cards around. It was one thing to paint rather private moments of your prince’s life when you thought he was either dead or off in the far reaches of space. It was quite another when said prince was not only very much alive but lived in the same city as you and might actually _see_ said paintings because you were friends with his son. _That_ sounded like a recipe for a beating.

Taking all that into consideration… Daikon was still weighing his options.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and did a few possible alternatives last weekend. Here, this one’s a possible new Strength card, what do you think?”

Goten and Trunks stared at the sketch numbly. Goten was the first to speak.

“I think you just forfeited your rights to that orange by making this.”

Trunks nodded numbly. “See, this, this is proof that you’re actually still evil. Only a truly twisted, deranged mind could come up with crap like this.”

“But he’s the strongest,” Daikon said innocently, “How can you say he’s not perfect for the Strength card?”

“Dammit, that’s not even what that card’s about!”

“Aw, you were _listening_! Hey, no, Goten, gimme back that orange, that is _my_ orange!”

And so the three squabbled good-naturedly until the lunch bell rang while, from Daikon’s sketchbook, Hercule Satan stood in his signature pose – as a super saiyan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daikon knows Hercule isn’t the strongest, he’s never even been that much of a fan of the guy – that picture was done entirely to mess with Trunks and Goten.
> 
> Sorry to everyone who wanted to see the Z warriors’ reactions to the tarot cards – I wanted to see them as well, but everything that I tried to write involving that felt contrived. I’m hoping to get some inspiration for this world again someday, but right now I’m working on something else, also DBZ related, which is much, much bigger. It’s not going to be up for awhile – I write first drafts better by hand, so everything I write has to be typed up before I can post it, which takes time, and I’m still writing more in the meantime. But rest assured, this isn’t my last foray into the DBZ universe – not by a long shot!
> 
>  
> 
> Reincarnation is a legitimate thing in the DBZ universe. Kid Buu becomes Uub, obviously, but even before that, during the fight with Buu, Piccolo tells Vegeta that his soul will be wiped of its memories and he’ll be reborn, so he won’t see Kakarrot or be able to fight him again when it’s all over. This doesn’t come to pass, but it’s still what would have happened at that point in time. However, I haven’t seen anyone actually do anything with this information in a fic, not really. So I decided to, and I decided to use it for my own take on the ‘redeeming Raditz’ concept, because I find his character interesting, and I find the whole Raditz and Goku situation a little tragic. Just to be clear, Daikon and Goku do not consider each other brothers – that opportunity is gone. And the only thing saiyan about Daikon is his soul, the rest of him is 100%, pure-bred human.
> 
> For those wondering about Daikon’s dreams, the memories of Raditz’s life are different from his glimpses of other peoples’ lives for two reasons that I couldn’t clearly say in the story. The first Daikon was having trouble phrasing, but the memories of Raditz are very clear and don’t fade like dreams do – they fit into Daikon’s mind like proper memories, albeit memories that start waaay before they should. The bits he’s seen of other peoples’ lives are more like Bardock’s visions, random scenes about people who were important to Raditz, including Vegeta, Goku, and, though he didn’t mention it, Bardock himself. However, unlike Bardock’s visions, Daikon’s only come when he’s asleep, which adds an extra layer of confusion as to what’s what because he does dream legitimate, non-vision type dreams about these people sometimes, and it’s hard to tease the two apart. Furthermore, he only gets glimpses of their lives up to the fateful Budokai where Buu was released, which is why he didn’t recognise Trunks or Goten initially. 
> 
> That Budokai is actually the other reason Daikon’s Raditz memories differentiate from his vision dreams – the memories he has literally been receiving all his life, the vision dreams started when he was six. You know, right after the whole ‘got killed by Buu along with everyone else on the planet, then got wished alive again’ incident. Yeah, the people running the reincarnation office in King Yemma’s place really weren’t counting on Daikon dying before he did so permanently, and it kinda messed with things. 
> 
> The memories were another mistake – it was a hectic day at the reincarnations office in Otherworld, some less-than-perfect jobs were done, nobody likes to talk about it and no one’s really sure exactly which cases were the botched ones, so there’s nothing that can really be done about it. Raditz’s is the first case to really actively come to light. The visions of other peoples’ lives weren’t supposed to be a thing – that was the result of a few more crossed spiritual wires when six-year-old Daikon got revived with the rest of Earth’s population, in combination with the fact that, this time around, his parents are actively psychic. Daikon doesn’t know this, though, and was too young to really remember that he hadn’t been having those dreams before he died, or even that he had died, thanks to that one wish.
> 
> Also, for anyone wondering about his little sister Cuca, yeah, that’s a saiyan name, but she’s not another reincarnated saiyan – their parents let Daikon choose her name. 
> 
> Vegeta ignores Daikon’s mouthing off for the most part because he was never able to get Raditz to stop and he doesn’t feel like wasting the effort trying to get Daikon to stop – easier to just ignore him.


	6. Bonus content!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually dreamed up images for far more cards from the Major Arcana than actually made it into the story. They were going to be included when I first thought them up but, for various reasons, they weren’t. So have some bonus material! As I mentioned before, I looked to The Steampunk Tarot by Barbara Moore and Aly Fell for information while ‘designing’ and explaining these cards, and some of the elements in the deck actually inspired me to send ‘my own’ characters wandering around in their cards:

The final card in the Prince’s storyline, and the card that contains the solo portrait of Vegeta, is **the Sun** card. In the picture, Vegeta is sitting on his heels on a mountain top, still dressed as a ronin, with his tail curled in the air behind him. It was not mentioned in previous descriptions because they were still sketches and therefore not in colour, but the Prince’s clothes have always been blue, though the shade has been getting lighter and lighter as the pictures progress. In this card, his robe is only a few shades darker than sky blue. Vegeta is in super saiyan form, hair yellow and surrounded by a golden aura, and one hand is held before his face, his expression wild and triumphant. Overhead and a bit to the left, the sun is blazing in a clear sky. At Vegeta’s knee is the one-star dragon ball, and his sword lies in the background, broken and discarded.

The Sun is one of the best, most positive cards in the tarot deck, and one of the simplest, in a way. It stands for the moment of perfection, when everything has gone right. None of the struggle or work it took to get to this moment matter – for this glorious golden moment, everything has fallen into place. Daikon never even considered using anyone else for this card, but he has yet to actually show it to Vegeta, as it displays a very personal moment for the Prince, more personal in a way than the Lovers card. Of all the dreams he had of Vegeta, this was the one he most wanted to be true. I think he’s actually hoping he can get away with never showing this picture to Vegeta, just do the painting, use it for his project and his deck, and just never show it to him. 

That’s not gonna happen. Vegeta probably won’t kill him, though, as it’s pretty obvious that, reborn and human or not, the boy obviously still feels a strong amount of loyalty towards the saiyan prince. Even if he does mouth off a lot.

 

 

As mentioned earlier in the fic, Bulma’s portrait card is **the Empress**. In it, she’s lounging on a throne in rich royal robes patterned with vines, styled somewhat anachronistically so that they show off her figure better, and her tail (because everyone in this deck has one, regardless of actual race) is curling in front of her to pull up the robe’s hemline and show off an enticing length of leg. One foot rests on the abacus she’s had on her belt in previous cards, and around her feet are various tools, an old-fashioned clock that’s partially completed, and the three-star dragon ball. The entire scene is set in a garden, but one that has been made out of wood, metal, and stone, and Bulma has a block of wood in her hands from which she is carving a new flower, though she gazes through her lashes at the viewer, a slight smirk on her face. She looks completely in control of the scene, sensual, powerful, and knowing. Her hair is elegantly styled but, interestingly, golden as opposed to blue or violet, though her eyes are their correct shade of blue.

The Empress is about abundance and creativity, and is often associated with Mother Nature and feminine power. Bulma’s all about the latter, but she’s more of a scientist and techie than a gardener, so her garden is one she has made. DBZ focuses on physical and spiritual power, but Bulma’s power is science and economy, which is what that abacus she has is meant to represent. Her other power is her sensuality, which doesn’t really need anything other than Bulma herself to be represented and accounted for. The golden hair is done very much on purpose – as you may remember, the Magician also has golden hair, as does the Sun. Blonde hair represents power in this deck, so the really powerful figures have it, regardless as to whether they have achieved – or even are capable of achieving – super saiyan.

 

 

As also mentioned, along with the Empress, there is an Emperor, but it’s not a role filled by Vegeta. No, **the Emperor** in the Monkey King Tarot is actually Chichi. Chichi as a man, but still obviously Chichi (gonna use female pronouns for describing the card in spite of this). In the picture, she also sits on a throne in royal robes, though these are of a masculine cut; they are patterned with kanji for the elements and Chichi has a half apron on over top of them. The four-star dragon ball is set in the top of the throne. In her right hand she holds a frying pan, and in the left she offers a large book. The scene behind her is a slightly more old-fashioned version of the Son family kitchen – Chichi’s kingdom – perfectly organised, and with food laid out on the counter in readiness for cooking. Chichi smiles out at the viewer, happy and welcoming, but her grip on the frying pan indicates that this could change at a moment’s notice should you cross her. Her hair is up in its usual bun, but while the left half is its typical black, the right half is golden. Likewise, her left eye is black, her right eye is blue, and her tail, wrapped neatly around her waist over the apron, changes from dark to light exactly halfway along.

The Emperor is a figure of authority and stability. The Empress is all about the creativity, but it is the Emperor who provides the structure and basic necessities needed so that we _can_ be creative, and have great scholars and artists and other such folk. The Emperor is also the fourth card in the deck, which is significant. Four is a number of stability, but also duality. Structure can support you and lift you to great heights, but it can also box you in and lead to stagnation, depending on how it is utilized. Chichi’s hair and eyes are a sign of this duality – power balanced with nurturing, or confinement balanced with placation, depending on whether the card is being viewed in a positive or negative aspect. The Emperor is typically a male, and I was originally going to cast Vegeta as him (before I’d done my research), but from the moment I read the description of the card, I knew it had to be Chichi, and from the glimpses he’s seen of her in his dreams, Daikon obviously agreed.

 

 

 **The Hermit** card is played by Yamcha and, before I say anything else, I like Yamcha, so there is no hating in this choice. The picture is of Yamcha when Bulma and Goku first meet him in Dragon Ball – his face is unscarred, and his hair is long and wavy. He sits on a mountain ledge, one leg dangling over the side, the other drawn up to his chest with one arm around it, and he is dressed in the old fashioned style of clothing seen throughout the deck. In Yamcha’s case, this consists of boots, loose pants, a sash, and an old coat that’s hanging off his shoulders, his arms out of the sleeves. His tail trails to his left and wraps around a sheathed sword and a money pouch that looks fairly full. With the hand not around his leg, Yamcha holds the five-star dragon ball up to the light of a sun that could be rising or setting, a satisfied smirk on his face. Beyond the mountain is a horizon line that includes the silhouette of a large city, though it is obviously far away from the mountain.

The Hermit card is about going off on your own to figure out what you really want and what’s right for you. Yamcha struck me as very self-assured when we first meet him in Dragon Ball, living mostly alone in the desert. He knows what he wants – a family, to get over being scared of girls – and he has confidence in his own abilities – he never considers using the dragon balls for wealth or to rule the world, saying he can steal all the money he wants and he doesn’t have any use for the world. He meets up with many, many set-backs in his attempts to get the dragon balls to cure his shyness, but he always comes up with a new plan. It’s only after he goes to the city with Bulma that things begin to become more complicated for him.

 

 

 **The Chariot** card is an example of how Daikon has learned many things from his dreams, but he still doesn’t know everything, because the picture on it is Krillin riding Kinto’un/Nimbus. In the picture, Krillin is dressed as a warrior monk, just like the Magician, and his head is shaved. On his back is strapped a red and gold fighting staff (coughNyoiboicough), and the sun is at his back. He sits with his legs crossed and his arms folded, his expression confident and his tail trailing behind him in the wind. By one foot is the seven-star dragon ball.

The Chariot is about confidence in the face of adversity and triumphing against the odds. Krillin, like Yamcha and Chichi, gets a lot of flak for being weak, but he’s pretty amazing, constantly going farther than anyone expects him to. By the end of DBZ, he is one of the strongest human beings in the world; the only human I can think of who might be stronger is Tien, and we don’t know how much he’s improved or remained at a steady power level by the story’s end. Still, that’s pretty impressive for a kid who got his head stuck in the sand during his introduction. And, as mentioned, Daikon’s dreams about things that were not actual parts of Raditz’s life are more fragmented and less accurate.

 

 

Daikon has mixed feelings about Nappa, but he was an important figure in Raditz’s life, so he gets to be **the Moon** card. In this card, Nappa stands with his back to the viewer but smirks over his shoulder at them, dressed in the same style of armor Vegeta wears until he sheds it for ronin robes. In front of him is a pool of water, in which Nappa casts two reflections, one of him as a lauded general, the other of his broken body lying on the ground. Beyond the pool, in amongst dark trees, looms a shadowy ozaru. An enormous full moon shines over the scene.

The Moon card really is one that’s less fun to find in your reading. It signifies confusion, illusion, fear, and disorientation, believing in false dreams and chasing after shadows. Nappa’s a very shadowy, annoying character to me – he’s very cruel and brutal in the manga (which is the format of DMZ I’m most familiar with), but Raditz certainly had faith in his teammates restoring him to life, and it was Nappa who did consider using the dragon balls to do just this before Vegeta shot that plan down. He also suggested the potential of restoring the saiyan race by breeding with Earth females – an idea I find pretty repulsive, since I doubt the women’s consent to this plan would have been involved, but which does show consideration for the future of their race and their goal of destroying Frieza (still a repulsive plan). Both these instances demonstrate that he has interests and goals beyond immediate personal ones, unlike Vegeta at the time, as well as loyalty to his people. Plus, I tend to play by what I call the Vegeta rule, which is if a character is as evil as or less evil than Vegeta started out as, they are capable of being redeemed, because Vegeta pulled it off. I’ve seen people do some interesting stuff with Nappa, and if I’m allowed to defend Raditz and Yamcha, people who like Nappa can do the same. Plus, I always advocate that if you don’t like a character, either give them character development until you do, or leave them alone. I don’t like Nappa, so I ignored him.

…okay, except in DBZ Abridged, he’s hilarious in that…

 

 

Goku, as always, gets to be special, and actually fills the roles of two single-character cards in the deck. One is **the Magician** , as mentioned before, but the other is actually the picture Daikon was painting in the veeeery first chapter which got ruined – **the Fool**. In this picture, Goku appears as a child, dressed as a novice warrior-monk, though his hair is its signature mess of spikes. He is standing on the edge of a very high cliff, the landscape below barely visible in the bottom right of the picture, and his tail is curled high behind him, and his expression is enthusiastic and excited. He is also in the process of stepping off the edge, one foot safely on the rock, the other extended out over nothing but clouds, including one that is a bit closer and rather more golden coloured than the rest. The sun is high in the upper right hand corner.

The Fool card is like the Death card – it is often assumed to be a negative card because of its name. But, once again, assumptions prove false. The Fool is about new beginnings and new adventures, about having the innocence or ignorance to take ‘foolish’ chances or choices. We so often remember fools as being foolish, forgetting how often they are the triumphant heroes of their stories. In this card, which is the ‘zero’ card in the deck (with the Magician being the ‘first’ card), Goku begins the training and adventures that reveal and mold him to be the powerful Magician he is in his other card.

The Magician is about having all the power you need to achieve your goals, and realising that you’ve had this power within you all along. It’s also about natural talent – the example I’ve seen is two master pianists playing the same piece of music. Both are obviously skilled, but while in one pianist’s hands the music is lovely, in the Magician’s hands it becomes otherworldly, divine, because he has that extra something that he brings to the piece. I read about the Magician card and went ‘holy crap, it’s Goku!’ The same goes for the Fool.

The Magician’s presence in the Hanged Man is as purposeful as all the various character selections and symbology in all the cards, though it might not indicate what you expect. The Hanged Man represents a change in perspective that, generally, is ultimately helpful, but it is important to remember that this change is not always gentle or even voluntary. Raditz’s transformation into Daikon was neither – Raditz was fine with who and what he was, even if Daikon looks back on that life and finds it wanting. Goku was not a guide in this event but a catalyst for the change. He has done his part, and now it is Daikon’s job to decide what to do with this new life he has. Daikon’s doing his best to take a positive perspective on events – it’s that or start screaming.

Simply put: the Magician may be the one who gave the Hanged Man the chance to get the peach, but he’s also the one who pushed him off the wall.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And so begins our story. As you may be able to guess, we’ve met my OC. Raditz will show up later, as will the tarot.  
> Also, for those thinking Daikon over-reacted to his painting being ruined? I read this scene to an artist friend of mine, who does paintings and such and also tends to read much darker fics than I read or write. She found the painting’s destruction painful to hear about, and claims Goten got off lightly.


End file.
